Copyright
JC Wallace 2014
Welcome to another installment of Diventando:
Becoming. Each week a group of authors participate weekly in Wednesday Briefs
Flash Fiction. Each installment is 500-1000 words long and are posted to our
blogs each week. After you read the latest in my story, click on the link at
the end to visit other flashers.
If you are new to Diventando: Becoming and haven’t
read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column
and start with #1. Enjoy and leave a comment to let me know what you think.
Reality
and fantasy melded; their frayed ends twisting and twining, joining their
fabrics into one. Owen easily slipped along the sheen of their surfaces,
falling in and out of the conjoined worlds seamlessly. The fluidity of the
movement dulled his mind to that defining line, blurring the two worlds. He
knew he was a prisoner in the room, however, was he also a captive in his own
mind? He no longer wondered if he was in a morphine-induced haze, dying of
cancer. He’d accepted the reality of the monster vying for control of his body.
But had his fantasy become his reality? Had Turk shown him kindness and
actually promised to help him escape? A sudden bark of laughter burst from Owen’s
mouth. There was no fucking escape. Turk and Wayne could drag him from the
cell, but he’d never escape the inevitability of fate. His internal captor
would emerge.
Voices drifted about the
room as Owen shivered on his bed. Earlier someone, possibly Malcolm, had mentioned
upping the dosage to continue to arrest the demon’s emergence. Owen’s core temp
had risen, signaling the drug’s effects waning. Yeah, they certainly didn’t
want that asshole out.
Owen shivered and his
stomach roiled at the rancid memory of forcing himself on the guard. He needed
to know if he was okay...But of course he wasn’t okay. The man had been taken
against his will, fucking raped, and
some mojo from the Incubus had forced the victim to ask for it...no beg for it.
Malcolm came into view,
holding an IV bag to replace the near empty one hanging above Owen. The scowl
on his face did little to hide the tension in his body or the glint of fear in
his eyes as he neared Owen. Malcolm, the badass covered in tattoos and muscles,
definitely from a gym, was afraid of Owen.
Not you. The Incubus.
As Malcolm quickly
changed out the IV bag, Owen shifted on the mattress to face him. Owen’s hands
were no longer cuffed behind his back. Thick leather cuffs now tethered each
arm to the rails of the bed, which had eased the screaming pain in his
shoulders. Not that they’d did it to make him more comfortable.
“Is the guard okay? Was
he hurt?” Owen asked in a strained voice, desperate to ease his mind even a
little.
The scowl deepened and
Malcolm ignored Owen as usual. The muscles in his jaw popped as he clenched his
teeth.
“Please, I just...I need
to know he’s okay. I didn’t want—”
Malcolm turned on Owen,
a raging fire in his eyes. “No, he’s not okay! You fucking raped him, demon.” As
Malcolm leaned closer, fear flared in Owen’s chest, knowing the physical damage
the man could render. Maybe...
“I did rape him. I
couldn’t stop...The demon...He’s strong and soon even this,” Owen motioned to
the IV, “won’t stop him.”
“They say Daniel had a
gun trained on you while you fucked Thomas but then he hit you with the darts
instead. Fucking idiot. I bet you did something to him, forcing him to spare
your life.” Malcolm spit the words out, coating them in as much venom as he
could. He hated Owen, hated the demon, and Owen couldn’t blame him. “Daniel
should have fucking ended you and the
evil inside.”
Owen knew that Daniel was
Turk’s first name since he’d heard Dr. Sealy use it but he wondered about the
nickname. “Daniel?”
“Daniel Turek. The
hunter.”
Turek...Turk.
Malcolm sneered and
leaned closer, apparently forgetting his fear. “He’s going to kill you. He’s
been hunting you for a long time.”
The memory of Turk
struggling against the necessity of shooting someone he cared for—or Owen hoped
cared for—was like a kick to the chest. How would Turk live with himself if he
killed Owen? God, Owen had begged him for death. If Owen could spare Turk the deed
of having to kill him then he’d could remove the guilt that would come from actually
pulling the trigger.
“I bet you wish you
could kill me.”
A smirk tugged at the
corner of Malcolm’s mouth and light brightened his eyes. “You disgust me.
Attacking and stealing power with your faggot ways.”
Shit, he was a demonphobe
and a homophobe. Definitely in Owen’s favor.
“Guess you would be
doing the world a favor by ending me. I can feel him, you know. He’s really
close to the surface. Every minute, every second, he lives and breathes, and becomes
stronger than these drugs.”
Malcolm’s bravado
slipped and he took a step back, the fear returning with Owen’s words. Owen’s
heart raced as he locked the consequences his actions would bring behind a door
in his mind. He had no choice. He just wished Turk could somehow know he’d done
this for him.
“I’ve tried to hold him
back, but I’m tired. So fucking tired. The pressure in my head, in my chest,
hurts, and he’s clawing his way out, and he’s thinking and planning. I can hear
him in my mind. He’s gonna get out and he’s got one name on his lips, the name
of the man who’s power he wants most, the one who warrants revenge.”
Malcom’s eyes widened
and his head shook minutely.
Owen nodded, fighting
the panic that was icier than the drugs in his veins.
For Turk.
“You Malcolm. He wants
you.”
“I ain’t no faggot! Fuck
you! You ain’t touching me! I’ll end you before you touch me.”
Malcolm growled and
lunged for Owen, his hands wrapping tightly around Owen’s neck. As he squeezed,
panic surged and Owen’s mind and body instinctively fought back. Luckily, the
restraints made his fight futile. Malcolm, his face red from effort, had locked
his arms and pushed the heels of his palms against Owen’s throat, cutting off
oxygen and blood. Owen fought to take in a breath as his lungs burned and
heaved. His primal need to survive had kicked in and he wanted to live, needed air,
but as his vision blackened at the edges, he retreated into his mind.
Turk...Wayne...his mom
and step-father...his aunt...relatives and friends, all would live on without
him. All safe from the demon.
Beautiful Turk. The man
who’d captured his heart at first sight.
Owen’s body went slack
as a distant roar sounded in his ears. If he gave in, let go, this would be
easier. He’d be off to the afterlife and he could save the world from an evil so
vile it would threaten the very light of day.
Drifting in the deep
waters of his mind, Owen listened to a sweet melody...a lullaby his mother had
sung to him as a child and also when he’d been so sick and she thought he was
near death. Beside the song was the deep rumbling of Turk’s voice, telling Owen
he would be okay, that everything
would be okay. And Wayne, begging Owen to open his eyes. Owen couldn’t open his
eyes because he had to go. Keep them all safe.
Something struck Owen’s
cheek, jarring his thoughts, clearing the haze. A deep gasp and sweet cool
oxygen expanded his lungs. Another breath and Owen wondered how death could
feel like life.
“Shit, Owen, open your
fucking eyes!” Another strike and Owen’s eyes popped open to see Wayne and Turk
leaning over him. Tears ran down his cheeks.
“No! No! No! What the
fuck did you do? He was going to save you by killing me!”
Wayne’s eyebrows climbed
his forehead, anger marring his features. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Owen turned to Turk with
pleading eyes. “I didn’t want you to have to do it. I didn’t want you to feel
that guilt. You shouldn’t have...” More fucking tears. Owen wanted off this
damned rollercoaster. The constant ups and downs, the highs of hope and dips
into despair, had all but crushed his will.
Turk pursed his lips
into a thin white line. He pushed sweaty locks of hair from Owen’s forehead,
the gentleness like knife stabs into Owen’s soul. Soft, pain-filled eyes
surveyed Owen’s face and fingers ran over the raw skin of his neck. Owen
shuddered from the reverent touches.
Wayne quickly worked to
remove the restraint from Owen’s left arm. Turk seeing the action quickly freed
Owen’s other arm, then took the wrist between his palms, rubbing the chaffed
skin tenderly.
When Turk looked up,
Owen gasped at the intensity of the gaze. “I promised to get you out of here. I
keep my promises. And we have a plan.”
While Owen wanted to
rail against his rescue, beg Turk, beg Wayne, to let him die and rid him of the
malevolent entity in his body, the naked affection in those eyes changed
everything. Owen did the one thing he’d dreamed of, fantasized of, since he’d
last seen Turk. He raised his shaking hands, took Turk’s face in his hands, and
pulled him down for a kiss.
#
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Check
out the other flashers this week at httbp://wedbriefsfic.com/ or click on the links below:
You always bring a tear to my eyes with this story. The story goes from romantic to exciting to intense. I really enjoy Owen's fight with his demon & the love he has found with Turk. You have also shown the love of family.
ReplyDeleteThis story get is definitely a rollercoaster but I love it and you're doing a great job and I can't wait to read more next week.
ReplyDeleteStay warm and stay safe :-)